THE NOVELIST. A VEXED INHERITANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1933, 25 February 1892, Page 37

THE NOVELIST. A VEXED INHERITANCE.

By ANNIE S. SWAN. Author of "Twice Tried," "Across Her Path" " Aldersyde," "The Gates of Eden," &c.

" 9 Chapter XX. »-fv£ar»A Differences of Opinion. j^jwgWEr ND do you mean to say, Clifford •fsfimiWi Weetray, that you believe this «yw§/fi\l!^ trumped-up story?— that yon jmfjSv** 1 wi'l actually give up We6t ftSJTjlift* Court to an impostor, whoso \}Msvt story would not bear the light V* The face of Lady Eleanor

Westray, as she uttered these words, was a signt to see. It was absolutely white with passion. Her lips quivered, her eyes gleamed ominously, her figure seemed to tremble with the excitement of her wrath.

bhe had returned from Enderby very late on the previous night, bringing with her the newly-widowed Marchioness of Enderby. ?es, death had severed the unhappy bond between the ill-matcbei pair, and Clara was once more free. Only in one sense, however, for the Marquis had left a strangely-worded will, which, in the event o[ her second marriage, deprived his widow of all the wealth which had been hip. It was the deed of a selfish and jealous-minded maD, feeling bitterly against his indifferent wife to the last.

The reading of that will had seriously annoyed Lady Westray, for Clara, with her distinguished appearance, might have made a second alliance even more desirable than the first. But unless it was such that she could afford to dispense with and despise the effects left by her late husband, she most remain in perpetual widowhood 1 Lady Westray took it more to heart than Clara, who exhibited little feeling over it, good or bad. She seemed glad to be free, and glad to come back to rest in her old home. Seeing both were worn and fatigued, Clifford had refrained till morning from breaking the news which he knew would give his mother such a shock. His task had just been accomplished in the library directly after breakfast, and pen could not adequately describe the incredulity, tcorn, and indignation with which his communication was received.

"He is no impostor, mother; anc the proofs are undeniable," he answered quietly. " You have only to see Bertie beside Aunt Adelaide to have your strongest doubts swept away. The wonder to us all is that we should never have observed in Frank Wareham the likeness he so unmistakeably bears to Undo Hubert."

Lady Westray clenched her hands. She felt for the moment helpless, perfectly feeble, and incompetent even to speak. "Then you will not contest Ms succession I You will simply walk out of West Court beggared, to let this impostor, who has palmed himself off on your poor, weak Aunt Adelaide, step into your shoes I "

"As soon as all necessary arrangements are made, all legal claims satisfied, I shall certainly resign West Court to its rightful owner," Clifford answered quietly, though Mb cheeks burned. There were times when his mother tried him almost beyond the limits of endurance.

" You are a fool, Clifford," was the bitter retort. " Were you to contest this in a court of law, the issue would certainly be in your favour. But probably such an issue would only disappoint you. You are never happier than when disappointing and bringing trouble and annoyance upon me." Clifford bit his lip, but his eye grew dim.

" These are hard words, mother. Ido not deserve them. When you have thought over this matter calmly and faced the inevitable, it will be time enough to discuss the future. There is no good to be got in talk of this kind "

" You are singularly respectful to me, Clifford," she said icily. " Pray tell me what plans you have for the future of which you speak. What is to become of me, of Ella, of your young brothers, who have been trained to look to you for support and aid?" " They must just stand on their own legs now, then. They are old enough," answered Clifford. "I am not at all anxious about them. For you and Ella there is Rathmere and the income we had when we were there. Surely what sufficed for a large family will keep you and Ella in comfort. Ido not anticipate that she will be long away from West Court." "And what aie you going to do? How will Sir Clifford Westray of West Coort and Combermere, M.P. for Barsetshire and Lord Lieutenant of the County, enjoy sinking into nameless and unknown obscurity, perhaps to feel the sting of poverly 1 " she continued in the same cold, contemptuous voice. Clifford turned his eyes in wonder on her face. She felt that look, though riie made no sign. "You need have no anxiety concerning me, mother. Be very sure that I shall at least be able to earn bread for myself and wife, and that, whatever straits I may be in, they shall never be allowed to trouble you." " Your wife 1 "

" Yes. I have found in one woman, thank God, the sympathy I have ever looked for in vain from yon," he said sadly. " I think it right to tell you that, directly matters are wound up and all changes made, Florenco Courtney becomes my wife, and we go to make our home in London."

Eleanor Westray had not a word to say. Perhaps had Clifford been broken down and distressed over his troubles she might have felt more drawn to him, might have been kinder than sbe was. But to see him so selfreliant and calm, and independent of every calamity which had overtaken him, was more than she could bear. The tone of bis voice, the deep, unmistakeable light in his eye when he spoke of his wife, was the bitterest draught in her cup of humiliation and pain. Who shall say that she did not richly deserve it all 1

" If I seem lacking in duty to you, mother, I have the past to offer as my excuse. But Ido not feel that any is needed. Looking back, I fear that, in strictly adhering to every wish and desire expressed by you, I may have wronged others. You required and exacted from me a great sacrifice once. It is time now that I took some thought for my own happiness — that happiness which only Florence, God bless her t can give me new. To have won her anew I would give np West Court, ay, twenty times over. The things you speak of — wealth, honour, pesition — are as nothing in comparison with that of which my life has hitherto been barren — a true and honest love."

So saying Clifford walked out of the room. He felt no misgiving for his plain speaking, his eyes being finally and clearly opened to his mother's ungovernable ambition and pride, which would sacrifice all, even honour and truth, to its own gratification.

Eleanor Westray was, as we know, unaccustomed to have such unpalatable truths plainly set before her, but they did her good. B afore she had been five minutes a'one with her thoughts she had resigned herself to the inevitable, and her ambition began to eoar in new directions. Henceforth to marry Ella to her cousin would be the main object of her days.

When* she had somewhat recovered, she retired upstairs to acquaint Clara with the whole circumstances, and to ask her to drive over that very morning to Alderley. "Because, you know, since it has to be done, we may as well do it gracefully," with a peculiar pressure of her lips. "If I'm to abdicate my throne I shall do it like a queen. If Adelaide Westray thinks she has crushed me at last she is mistaken."

" I don't believe Aunt Adelaide would ever think of such a thing. She is too good and sweet. She will be heartily sorry, I am sure," said Clara listlessly.

"Nonsense. But there is another thing, Clara. Ella must marry.her cousin. There is nothing else for her. She is a beggar, you know— and her beauty is not co striking, as to command the homage of some King Cophetua. If she can't win Hubert Westray her life ia practically over." " Mamma, don't you grow tired of your endless planning? Leave the child alone. She will never be happy if you choose for her," said Clara with some bitterness. 41 Don't you fail me in this crisis, Clara," said her mother. " Besides, I don't anticipate I shall have to do much. They were attached to each other in London, though with Cloneraven's offer in hand I had to nip that in the bud. But an old flame is easily fanned, and if Ella becomes mistress of West Court I shall be content to live in obscurity at Rathmere all my days." Clara incredulously shook her head. She knew her mother too well.

" What is Clifford going to do ? " "Don't ask me," retorted Lady Westray passionately. •' Clifford has never been anything but a thorn in my flesh. His Aunt Adelaide ruined him with her soft, sentimental views of life when he was a boy, and he has never gob the better of that early training. He is going to marry that girl at once. I don't know which of them is the greater fool." " Florence Courtney ? "

" Oh, I'm glad of it. Yes, I'll go over with you just now — just to kiss her for it. Dear Clifford 1 I have always been sorry for him. But lam not surprised. That is just the kind of thing a girl like Florence would do. She if, in vulgar parlance, a brick." Lady Westray looked disgusted, and retired to make her toilet. Everything was against her that day; even Clara's thoughts were not in unison with hers.

Despite the drizzling rain falling from a leaden-hued sky, the carriage was ordered and the ladies drove to Alderley. For reasons of her own Lady Weetray did not ask Ella to accompany then:. There was a pleasant little family party gathered in the homely morning room at Alderley. Lady Adelaide, with a qaief, blithe contentment on her face, which made it look years youDger; Florence and Anna, busy over a pile of winter stuff fot their poor; Tom, deep in Bell's Life, from which he read an occasional paragraph for the delectation of the others; and, last of all, young Hubert Westray, who, it was observed, did not care to be far away from his mother's chair. Into this room the ladies from West Court were ushered, without warning, and for a moment a slight confusion was visible on the faces of the occupants. Eleanor Westray, however, was mistress of the occasion. She walked straight up to Lady Adelaide, and, for the first time for many years, ki3sed her cheek.

" Clifford only told me the happy tidings this morning, Adelaide," she slid with gracious eff nsivenes?, " and I have lost no time in hastening to offer my congratulations. Will Sir Hubert Westray permit his Aunt Eleanor to wish him joy ? "

As she uttered these words, she turned her smiling eyes on the pale grave face of Hubert Westray, where he stood close beside his mother's chair. He could not help the slight curl of his lip, nor the somewhat scornful glance of his eye, as he answered quietly and courteously, but with unmistakeable coldness :

" I thank you, Lady Westray." He read her through and through, and his soul shrank from her. He could not meet her on equal ground. At that moment Clara came to the rescue. She, too, kissed her aunt, and her few words were at least earnest and sincere. She shook hands with her cousin, and with a frank, happy touch, referred to their former meeting ; then she

went away into the corner window where Florence Btood— Florence who had turned' away, colouring painfully, when she met the haughty, unaltered coldness of Lady Eleanor's eyes. " Florence, if there weren't so many people In the room, I would hug you, for Clifford's sake," Clara whispered, softly. "NothiDg has ever made me half so glad as this has done." " Thank you." Florence raised her true eyes gratefully to Clara's pale, fair face, and closed her fingers firm and fast over the slender hand. " I am very sorry," she whispered, glancing at her sombre attire. Clara only nodded, and then offered her hand to Tom. Her colour heightened as she did so, and his big hand actually trembled as ho felt once more the thrill of her slender fingers. Ah, foolish Tom I the old infatuation was jet alive. Ib was curious to listen to (he polite commonplace talk which went round the room, knowing what a variety of conflicting feelings were dominant. Lady Eleanor played her ! part matchlessly, and none could have detected beneath that bland exterior the tumult of anger and chagrin which surged in her soul. Her reign was over. She read the coldness, avorsion even, in Hubert's eye?, and saw that the proud spirit would not readily forget the past. But that did not hurt her as did the quiet, sweet, ineffable satisfaction and contentment in the eye 9of the woman against whom she had borne a causeless anger all her life. She saw her the centre of honour, and care, and tenderest solicitude; towards whom every heart— ay, even Clara's— naturally and instinctively turned with a fond and trustful love. Eleanor Westray waß to be pitied, for she had not even the devoted love of her own children to solace her in her hour of need. The bolls were ringing out a merry, merry peal. It was a gala day in Westray, as well it might Le, for it was the wedding morning o£ the master of West Court. Let us peep into the old parish church of Westray, this sunny June morning, and witness for ourselves this happy marriage. Ib is 20 minutes past 11, and everything is in readiness for the coming of the bride. While they wait for her we may take a peep at the assembled throng ; it may be that we may see some familiar faco. Ay, more than one. There, first of all, is Clara, Marchioness of Enderby, in somewhat soberattire, but whoso face woars the bloom of long ago. Surely I she has found rest at least in her childhood's home. Her mother, plain Mrs Robeit Westray now, as of yoro, i 3 beside her, very magnificently attired, and looking as benign as it is possible for her to look. She may be glad and proud to-day, since her last ambition is on the eve of' fulfilment. A bitter drop has mingled even with that cup, and it is Clara's hand that has placed it there. For Clara has of her own freewill, nay, gladly and joyfully, intimated her intention of renouncing all the privileges accorded to her as the widowed Marchioness, and in a month's time, when the young couple come home, is to give her hand, and her heart with it, to Tom Courtney. Ah, Tom, the rough and ready, has won the love he sought in vain so loner ago, and it is a very precious thing in his honest eyes. But not so precious perhaps, as hip true devotion Is tp the tired heart of the woman who, years ago, made such a bitter mistake. 1 Thore he stands, a goodly presence, towering above his sisters at the other si.de of the altar, Lady Adelaide, upon whose happy face there dwells a serene and exquisite peace, has her hand through the arm of her hoy, who is looking his noblest and best, as well he may, on his wedding morn. At her other side there is a graceful figure in rich grey silk — a bright face framed by a dainty lace bonneb !— a face so sweet, and dear, and true that ib can belong to none bub Florence ; but we must be deferential now to our old happy friend, the wife of his Excellency the Gover-nor-General of Madras. Clifford Weßtray's services had not been forgotten by his party ; his honest, selfdenying labour had iVs reward. No need to ask if Florence is happy ; we have never set n her look lovelier than now. Presently her cheek flushes, and her eyes fill as they Jail upon the noble faze and figure of her husband, entering the church with the bridp, bis young, fair sister, on his arm. A little stir and excitement, as the bride moves to her place, and then tho service begins, and in a few minutes all h over, and' there is a new Lady Westray of West Court. It is the bridegroom's mother who has the first kiss, and who in accents full of love says : " God bless my daughter and my son I " There is a guest in the church who, though she has no place of honour, and is unknown to the majority of those present, is n«t quite overlooked. She is there at her own request, I and she watches the proceedings with an interest almost wild in its- intensity. When the congratulations are being offered, Clifford lightly touches his wife's arm. 41 Do you see the lady in mourning behind the pillar, my darling ? " Florence looks and nods her head, but before Clifford can say more he ia in request to sign the register. While that is being done Lady Adelaide slips biok to the emptying church, and, approaching the kneelicg figure, lightly touches her arm. "Come with me just a moment," she whispers kindly, and leads her into the verger's room, which is quite empty. ■ For a moment she is left alone, and fhen it is as if a burst of sunshine had filled tho room, when fctir Hubert Westray, with his young wife upon his arm, enters. He takes the woman's thin hands in bis warm, kindly clasp, and bending from his tall height, kisses liar, and then turns to the radiant figure at his side. 11 This is my wife," he says simply. "My mother bids ar.e bring her to you here and now. We are glad you came down to-day." His voice trembles in spite of himself. Ha cannot look on that sorrow-lined face without emotion. He cannot forget the Jove that was. There has been no final parting ; he has paid regular visit > to the desolate woman abiding alone in London, and he has never gone but with his mother's blessing and approval. The worn, hollow eyes are fixed with wistful earnestness on tho sweet face of the ycung bride, and an unutterable satisfaction gathers in their depths. "If I may be allowed, let me touch your

hand," she says, in a low voice. " May God Dless you. You have the smile and the eyes of the Lady Adelaide." Ella Westray puts aside the offered hand, and layiogher own on the drooping shoulders kisses the face of Rosamond Vane. The End.